Skillet Sweet Potato and Black Bean Burrito Bowls -- Betty’s Mashed Beans Grew Up and Moved West

School's almost out. Clay has two weeks left and he is done — mentally, spiritually, academically done. He's a sophomore and he has checked out with the thoroughness of a man retiring after forty years. His grades are fine — Bs and Cs, which Connie says should be As and I say should be whatever keeps him eligible for football. We have different philosophies on education. Connie believes school is the path to opportunity. I believe school is the path to Friday night football. We're both right, probably.

Clay played JV this year — starting linebacker, sophomore, the coaches love him because he's big and fast and hits like he was raised in coal country, which he wasn't, technically, but the Harlan County runs deep in the bloodline. He'll be on varsity next year. The defensive coordinator already told me. I try not to think about it too much because every time I picture Clay on that varsity field, I also picture the stands full of people, and me in those stands, and the feeling of watching your son do something with his body that makes people cheer. That's a drug. I understand why sports parents lose their minds.

This week I made pinto beans. Not soup beans — different preparation. Soup beans are Monday's dish, whole beans in pot liquor with cornbread. Pinto beans for the end of the week are mashed — refried, basically, though Betty never called them refried because that's a Mexican word and Betty's frame of reference didn't extend much past the Harlan County line. She called them "mashed beans" and she made them by cooking a pot of pintos the regular way, then scooping some out and mashing them in a skillet with bacon grease and onion.

Mashed beans on toast was a Saturday lunch staple. Or mashed beans with fried eggs. Or mashed beans rolled in a flour tortilla, which Betty discovered in the 1990s when the Food Lion in Harlan started carrying tortillas and she decided they were basically flat cornbread with less personality. The point is: beans are infinitely flexible. One pot of pintos can become five different meals. That's the genius of poor people's cooking — not that it's simple, but that it's resourceful. Every ingredient works three jobs because there isn't money for an ingredient that only works one.

Amber called on Sunday night. She's stressed about finals. She's finishing her freshman year and she's worried about her grades in anatomy and physiology, which apparently involves memorizing every bone and muscle in the human body. I told her she'd be fine. She said I didn't understand. She's right — I don't understand anatomy and physiology. But I understand my daughter, and my daughter has never failed at anything she decided to do, and she decided to do this. I told her to eat something and go to bed. Fathers are not always helpful, but we are always available.

Betty sent word through Dale that the garden is coming in. Tomato plants are up. Beans are climbing the poles. Corn is knee-high, which means it's on schedule for knee-high by Fourth of July, which is the old farmer's benchmark that Betty takes as seriously as a stock trader takes the Dow Jones. I miss the garden. Connie and I have a small one in the backyard — some tomatoes, peppers, a few herbs — but it's not the same as Betty's half-acre on the hillside in Evarts, where the rows followed the contour of the mountain and the beans grew toward the sun like they were trying to escape Harlan County, which everything in Harlan County eventually tries to do.

Betty called her version “mashed beans” and she made them work five different ways out of one pot — that’s the whole philosophy right there, and it’s the same philosophy behind this skillet. When I find myself reaching for beans on a Friday because the week got long and the grocery budget got short, this is the version I make now: sweet potato and black beans in a hot cast iron, piled into a bowl or rolled into a tortilla just like Betty would’ve done if she’d had a Whole Foods within forty miles of Evarts. She didn’t, but she would’ve approved of the resourcefulness.

Skillet Sweet Potato and Black Bean Burrito Bowls

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 2 cans (15 oz each) black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1/2 cup low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth
• Juice of 1 lime
• 2 cups cooked rice or grain of choice, for serving
• Optional toppings: shredded cheese, sour cream, salsa, sliced avocado, chopped cilantro, flour tortillas

Instructions

1. Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 4–5 minutes until softened and translucent. Add the minced garlic and cook 1 minute more.
2. Add sweet potatoes and spices. Add the sweet potato cubes to the skillet along with the chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, cayenne (if using), salt, and pepper. Stir to coat everything evenly in the spices.
3. Cook the sweet potatoes. Pour in the broth, stir, and cover the skillet with a lid or foil. Cook over medium heat for 10–12 minutes, stirring once halfway through, until the sweet potatoes are fork-tender.
4. Add the beans. Add the drained black beans to the skillet and stir to combine. Cook uncovered for 3–4 minutes until the beans are heated through and any excess liquid has reduced. Mash a portion of the beans lightly with the back of a spoon if you prefer a thicker, creamier texture — Betty’s method, basically.
5. Finish with lime. Squeeze the lime juice over the skillet and give everything a final stir. Taste and adjust seasoning.
6. Serve. Spoon over cooked rice in bowls, or roll into warm flour tortillas. Top with shredded cheese, sour cream, salsa, avocado, or whatever you have. This is flexible cooking — use what’s there.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 380 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 70g | Fiber: 14g | Sodium: 420mg